Wings
by TimeTravelerAluwa
Summary: Arthur is a talented Mage trying to get to University. Getting accepted isn't a problem, but a long journey, brewing war, and an infuriatingly charismatic Frenchman with wings pose more of a problem.
1. Chapter 1- Into the Woods

Arthur stuffed an extra cape into his bag and took a step back to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. His small bedroom seemed so tidy and un-lived in to him, despite the fact he would have to leave most of his things behind. He thought his bookshelf, which sagged against the wall like an exhausted pack animal, looked sad. It was as if it didn't want him to go, just like everyone else in the house.

His cousin, Alice, stood silently in the doorway with her arms crossed and watched him pack through her glasses. Her long blonde hair was pulled into ponytails that still reached her waist. He mentally checked off his list of supplies and sat on edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

"You could wait a day, then we'd all feel better," Alice spoke up, finally breaking the silence. "Just until everything blows over."

"I won't make it in time," he sighed irately. "We all know this is nothing. Rival kingdoms are always making threats, but nothing will become of it."

"But Trilind and Rhiawien are so close. That's why Father worries, it's not that he wants to stop you from getting your education."

Arthur stood, pulled the straps of his bag over his shoulder, and picked up his bedroll. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

He stepped around her and she followed him to the door. "You know that Autumnworth would take you in a heartbeat."

"Alice," he groaned.

"You've got such a head start, think about it! You could be a Destruction Mage in half the normal time!"

"Come now," he stopped by the door and frowned.

He stared at the doorknob, trying to calm his nerves. All the talk was getting to him. It would be easier to stay at his Uncle's home, go to the University down the street, take subjects he found exceedingly simple. But where would that leave him? How could he grow in such an environment? He took the doorknob and turned.

"I know you're worried, but it's nothing, remember? Besides I can hold my own in a pinch," he set his face into a determined grimace and stepped outside.

She grabbed his elbow, "You're really going." It was more of a statement than a question.

He looked her in the eye. She sighed and pulled an envelope from her apron pocket before shoving it into his hand.

"What's this?" he asked, surprised, peeking inside.

"If we can't change your mind…" she shook her head. "Father wanted you to have it. He's arranged for you to go with a group, so at least you won't be alone and get lost or something. There's a little money too, a map, some postage stamps."

Arthur felt speechless, all this after they had spent days trying to change his mind, "Thank you."

"Yeah, well," she crossed her arms again. "You won't listen, so…"

"I'll send word when I can," he gave her an awkward hug and set off down the road at a brisk walk.

He didn't look back, knowing that his Uncle was watching from the upstairs window. Excitement bubbled into his chest, replacing his hesitancy. He was going to do it! Nothing could stand in his way now! For the first time he felt unstoppable, like a determined ray of positive energy.

Until he saw the group he was traveling with. They were meeting in a grassy hill on the edge of town, next to the main road leading to Rhiawien. He counted a handful of elderly folks, at least three families with children under the age of five, and half-a-dozen wounded or sick patients headed to the University hospital. He tried to hold onto hope, despite the sinking feeling in his gut, until a tall, solidly-built, blond man caught his eye and waved him over.

"Mr. Kirkland, nice for you to join us," he said in an overly formal tone, standing straight and checking something off on the clipboard in his large hands. "Your Uncle mentioned that you might."

"Are you the guide, Beilschmidt?" Arthur asked, trying to conceal his annoyance.

Ludwig didn't seem to notice, and checked a pocket-watch. "Quite," he answered distractedly. "And the coordinator, organizer, assistant medic."

"Assistant?"

"A Healing Mage is accompanying us," He grimaced, which looked very similar to his usual face. "And he is late. Everyone else seems to be here, but I need to triple-check the list. Have a seat other there by Mr. Bonnefoy, would you? And do not move around too much, it makes it harder for me to count."

Ludwig gestured to an attractive man with large, breathtaking golden wings who was chatting with two young ladies. Arthur rolled his eyes and marched over, giving the winged man a wide berth when he sat down and pulled a book from his pack. Odd appendages were not unusual, especially wings. Avian lived in large groups nearby in fact. But from what he'd heard about the Avian race, they were all promiscuous, cowardly, and had strange customs. Out of everyone in the group, Arthur decided that was the person he wanted to associate with least.

So, of course, when Arthur looked up to see if they were going to leave yet instead he saw a curious face with wide blue eyes and framed by wavy blond bangs.

"Can I help you?" Arthur said in a ruder tone than he intended.

For a split second Arthur could have sworn the man's expression turned to something like despair or pain, but it was immediately replaced by a charming, toothy smile. Arthur decided that he was mistaken.

"I merely wished to introduce myself," the man said with a thick accent, straightening. "Francis Bonnefoy, enchanté!" He stood very deliberately and his wings seemed to puff slightly as he shifted, trying to look impressive. The sun glimmered across his feathers and filtered through the baggy, white tunic he wore, tracing his chest in light.

Arthur was unimpressed. "Nice to meet you," he replied, looking back at his book.

Francis' eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He cleared his throat loudly and it took a moment for Arthur to look up again.

"Hm?"

"And who are you?"

"Oh yes, sorry," Arthur said unapologetically and with a strained smile. "Arthur, nice to meet you." He repeated, looking back at the pages immediately.

Francis bristled, he was not used to being brushed off. Something was drawing him to this young man with messy hair and dynamic eyes the craziest shade of green he'd ever seen. The pull felt like something electric, nagging, and he wasn't about to leave it at that. It would drive him crazy.

He opened to mouth to try to re-start the conversation when Ludwig yelled his name from across the yard. Francis jumped, causing a few feathers to float free.

"Sit down!" He barked, the pen in his hand furiously scribblings over his list as he tried to count the children running around and playing, "do not make me say it again!"

Francis grit his teeth, but took a deep breath and regained his composure. He sat next to Arthur and carefully arranged his wings. Arthur suppressed a snicker.

"Alor, what brings you on this trip?" Francis started again.

"I'm going to Drauferra University," Arthur answered after a pause. Why wouldn't this guy leave him alone?

"Oh, really? That is quite prestigious, you must be intelligent."

Arthur gave him an odd look at the comment.

Francis' smile faded as he realized flattery was going nowhere, "Or perhaps not if you are hurrying over there when we are on the brink of war."

Arthur flushed red, "Excuse me, but you're heading that way too!" He snapped.

"I have no choice, alas," Francis replied dramatically. "At least I have thought of my options, as you obviously have not."

"Neither do I! If I don't arrive soon I'll loose my spot!" Arthur clenched his fists, "If you're so smart, then why are you walking with the rest of us? Don't tell me those gaudy things are just for show."

Francis' nostrils flared and he hunched his shoulders, "You-!"

"Keep making that face and maybe it'll stick that way!" Arthur sneered, "That'd be an improvement!"

Francis seized the front of Arthur's cape and Arthur had a fistful of Francis' hair, raising his foot to kick.

"Kirkland! Bonnefoy!" Ludwig roared, looking as if he were about to have an aneurism, "No fighting!"

Arthur huffily turned away. Francis did as well, jostling Arthur with his wings and sent he had must have been hate; distaste so powerful he could feel it before saying a word. But, deep down, he knew that wasn't it. This was something new. He put a hand over his heart, puzzled.

Suddenly in a flurry of motion a slim brunet man bumbled into the camp, arms full of herbs and flowers. "Ludwig! I'm here!" He cried, "I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Feliciano, finally you're here! Please, call me Beilschmidt," Ludwig said tiredly, rubbing his temple.

"Oh dear, Ludwig, you don't look so well. Want me to take a look?" The healer asked eagerly.

"Not now. Alright, I'm 98.7 percent sure everyone is present now, so let's get started. Collect your things, proceed in an orderly manner!" Ludwig called.

"Thank God," Arthur muttered, standing. Maybe he would actually make it on time.

When the group stopped for the night, Arthur felt like thumping his head against a tree in frustration. They were barely out of sight of the town, and he could have sworn that if he looked through the trees at the right angle he could still see the lights. He sat, staring at the campfire and stewing over the possibility of having to turn around and go home.

This was unacceptable. So he came up with a plan.

Arthur waited until it became calm, and the strange silence of sleep settled around them before picking up his bedroll and sneaking off the path. He slipped into the trees when Ludwig wasn't looking, staying as quiet as possible.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur grimaced, his heart sinking at being caught, and turned to face Francis. The Avian was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, wings folded neatly against his back. He looked pale and otherworldly in the dark, as if he might melt away at any moment.

"What's it look like?" Arthur gestured down the path. "Why do you care? Go back to sleep."

"You can't go by yourself."

"I can fend for myself, thanks."

Francis walked closer, unfolding his arms. "You will get lost!"

"Shh! Quiet," Arthur held up a palm and took a deep breath. "I've got a map, I'll be fine. It's basically a straight shot anyhow."

"Not right now it isn't," Francis whispered urgently. "Take me with you."

"No way!"

"Why not?"

"Why should I?"

"Listen, I know this area," Francis insisted. "I know how to avoid the bandits and gangs. They're very active lately. Besides, I know we're moving too slowly…"

Arthur glanced at the other man's shaking hands and wondered what his reason for hurrying was.

"And checkpoints are no longer allowing single travelers to pass for the time being, it's too dangerous," Francis finished, looking proud of himself. "You need me."

Arthur swore under his breath. He'd forgotten about that. It looked like this was his best option.

He sighed, "Fine, but we have to go now. Get your bag."

"That's alright with me," Francis replied. "I don't have one."

Arthur shook his head and they headed into the darkness, staying off the path until they were out of sight of the camp.


	2. Chapter 2- Gotta walk before you can Fly

Alrighty, here we go, Chapter 2! Sorry the first one was so slow, hopefully things will pick up a bit little on this one.

Arthur awoke with a sneeze and feathers in his face, but felt surprisingly warm and comfortable. He blinked a few times, and flopped his head to the side. Francis was curled up next to him, one wing tucked over his own head and the other draped protectively over Arthur. Arthur thought he looked rather honest and peaceful when he was asleep, nothing like the fake, vain asshole he'd met yesterday.

Arthur could see why women seemed to like him. Francis' hair seemed to flow to the ground, pooling in delicate curlicues, complimenting his smooth skin and voluminous eyelashes. Arthur reached toward the other man with a hesitant hand. Francis looked unreal, almost like art, but then he stirred. With a faint cough, Francis looked over at him with sleepy blue eyes and Arthur's heart missed a beat.

So he slapped him.

"Ah!" Francis jerked to sitting, holding a hand on his cheek. "Porquoi?!"

"Time to go," Arthur grumbled, wriggling out of his bedroll.

"You don't have to _slap,_ " Francis rubbed his face. "Just shake me, or even better"

A stream gurgled about fifty feet away from where they had decided to spend the night, and Arthur approached it to splash his warm face.

He squatted down and reached his hands towards the water, "The sooner we get there the better."

"I could not agree more," Francis put a shoe against his back and pushed him in.

Arthur righted himself in the water, sputtering, "You bastard! It's cold!"

Francis started to laugh until Arthur grabbed his ankle and started to pull him in as well.

"Wait! Wait! No, no, no, no!" Francis landed ungracefully with a splash, his wings stretching upwards from the shock. "Mon Dieu!"

"You should have considered this before you pushed me in," Arthur huffed.

"You started it! I was trying to tell you someone is stealing your bag!" Francis spat, standing up.

"…What?"

Francis jabbed a finger towards Arthur's bedroll. Arthur scrambled out, dripping with water, and sprinted over.

"Wha- My books! I turned around for ten seconds!" Arthur looked every way frantically and caught a glance of a cape disappearing into the trees, "Hey!"

"Serves you right," Francis muttered. "Well, they are gone now."

Arthur took off running, "Like hell they are!"

"Wait!"

Arthur didn't stop. Francis pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He began to jog after him, paused, and ran back for Arthur's bedroll.

Arthur cast a tracking spell on his bag and followed the yellow glowing line only visible to him as it wound and wove through the trees. He finally caught up to the thief in the shade of a large tree when he stopped to go through Arthur's bag.

"Ah-hah!" Arthur cried, jumping from behind a tree.

The thief dropped the bag in shock and pulled out a dagger, his hands quivering. He was petit and dressed in all black, the hood of his cape obscuring his face.

"There's no need for that," Arthur put his hands up and slowly crept forward. "I just need my books back. We can go our separate ways."

The man grimaced and jabbed the weapon toward Arthur, "S-stay back!"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Arthur coaxed.

Without warning a knife zipped by his head, nicking his ear and embedding itself in a tree. Arthur froze. Another thief, this one tall and very slim, moved into view holding throwing knives. She shook her head disapprovingly and gestured for the first thief to pick the bag up.

Arthur summoned lightning, his palms crackling and buzzing, "Put it down."

The man looked from the woman to Arthur and back. She hardly flinched.

In a flurry of feathers Francis crashed into the space, "Arthur!"

The woman threw the knives with a flick of her wrist and Arthur sent a blast in her direction, another toward the man. The man jumped to the side and the woman did a neat flip out of the way. Arthur wound up again, this time air, and blasted the man into a tree. The woman sent another barrage of knives his way, and Arthur put up a shield with a flinch. When he opened his eyes they had vanished, and taken his bag with them.

"Come on!" Arthur barked in frustration.

Francis grabbed his arm, panting, "You don't want to go after them. That's an organized gang, there will only be more. Trust me."

Arthur dragged his hand down his face and rested his forehead against a tree with a thunk. "My books," He bemoaned.

Francis seemed to be having a difficult time catching his breath. He rested his hands on her knees and coughed a few times before straightening.

"You can get more, non?" He said, "At least you still have this."

He held out the bedroll and Arthur took it, walking away grumpily, "I suppose."

Francis pointed the opposite direction, "The road is that way."

Arthur turned around and trudged back, "Shut up."

After walking for almost half a day, a faint gurgling broke the silence.

Francis snickered, "Is that your stomach?"

"Shut it," Arthur clamped a hand over his stomach. "All my food was in my bag, I haven't eaten all day."

"Hmm," Francis looked around a pointed. "There's some apples up there."

They both stopped and walked over to the tall, knotted apple tree by the side of the road. Arthur's stomach growled again and he stood up straight, clenching his fists with determination. He grabbed a low branch and heaved himself up. Francis crossed his arms and watched coolly from the ground and Arthur slowly began to climb.

Arthur used to climb trees when he was little, and it began to come back to him. His favorite was a sturdy old oak in the woods near his house. He would sit near the top and watch people walk by, making up stories about them and talking to the fairies who lived up there. Sometimes he spent hours up there in the lives until Mother called to him that it was time for Supper. That was his favorite place until they had to leave. Until-

The branch underneath him broke and he fell with a yelp. He fell several feet, hit another branch, then slid off to fall the rest of the way. Francis ran to catch him, but Arthur knocked him down and they ended up in a bruised heap on the ground.

"Here's an idea," Arthur groaned, pushing himself to his feet. "How about the guy with wings just fly up and get apples."

Francis sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"You know, I haven't seen you fly once," Arthur continued as Francis stood.

Francis rolled his eyes and stretched out his wings to full length. The glimmering feathers took Arthur's breath away for a moment, although he would have never admitted it. With a few powerful, abet slightly labored, beats of his wings Francis made it to the top and disappeared between the branches. After a moment to jumped and glided back down in a wide circle, and came to a running stop with the apple held out in front of him.

"Voilà," he said with a small smile.

Arthur squinted at him and hesitantly took the fruit. He looked it over for bugs, but didn't find anything.

"You're welcome," Francis pouted as they began to walk again.

"You don't want one?" Arthur asked. "You haven't eaten either."

Francis shrugged, "I'm not hungry."

Arthur took a bite, "It's good."

"Mhmm."

Arthur chewed contemplatively for a few moments, savoring the taste. "So, if you don't mind me asking, why are you walking everywhere if you can fly? That'd most likely be faster anyway, and you wouldn't have to deal with robbers or thieves."

Francis didn't respond. He looked up at the sky, blue peeking through the wide expanses of white clouds that had begun to gather during the day.

"You don't have to answer, I was just wondering," Arthur went back to chewing his apple.

Arthur almost missed it when Francis finally started to speak.

"Come again?"

"I'm sick, Arthur," Francis put a hand on his own chest. "My heart is weak, getting a little worse each day. I'm going to Drauferra hospital; I was told they might be able to help."

Arthur paused to take in the information, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Francis shrugged, resigned, then looked at Arthur sideways. "Besides, who will keep you out of trouble? You could never make it without me."

Arthur looked back, incredulous, and then began to laugh. He took a final bite of the apple and tossed off the side of the road, still chuckling.

When night fell they stopped and built a fire, keeping a sharp eye out for any company. Arthur's stomach was grumbling again, but Francis assured him that they would reach the next town in the morning.

"From there only half a day's walk to the Rhiawien border, and we could reach Drauferra by the end of the day," Francis continued optimistically.

"If everything goes as smoothly as today, I'd wager it might take a little longer," Arthur replied, tossing more wood on the fire and summoning a little more to make it burn faster.

Francis watched the flames dance higher. He had a wing flopped on the ground next to him and he rolled his shoulder.

Arthur paused. He could just go to bed and ignore whatever weird thing the Avian was doing now.

He sighed, "You alright?"

"Just sore," Francis replied. "I landed funny when you fell on me."

"You ran underneath me, you-" Arthur shook his head. "Let me see."

Francis' eyes widened, "No, no that's alright."

"Come on, I'm going to University for Healing, I can help," he insisted, walking behind him to look at his joints. "It's not like I'm going to make it worse."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Francis muttered. "Ow!"

"Don't be a baby," Arthur tugged Francis' shirt to the side so he could see better.

Francis stiffened, his face getting a little warm, "Hold on, Healing? I thought you were going for Destruction, that display with the thieves was almost impressive."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but suppressed a smile, "Destruction is easy, putting things back together is difficult. I want to challenge myself."

"I see."

A purple and blue bruise was splayed across Francis' upper back, the worst between his shoulder and wing joint.

"That's not good," Arthur murmured. "No worries. I can't heal it but I can speed it up a little bit."

"Don't touch my wing, s'il vous plait," Francis blurted.

"But you've injured it."

"It's taboo, alright? They're very sensitive and intimate; only family or lovers are allowed," Francis clarified.

Arthur remembered how he'd woken up in the morning. His forehead furrowed and he wondered if Francis was messing with him.

"Okay, I'll try not to," he said slowly, reaching a hand down the back of Francis' shirt.

"Ah! Your fingers are cold!"

"Oh hush."

He gently splayed his hand over the bruise, avoiding the joint, and waited until the spell could start to take effect. When it began to heat up Arthur took his hand out and shook it to cool it down.

"That should do it. I'm not very good, but that will help a little."

Francis pulled his shirt back up, "Merci."

"Yep," Arthur squirmed into his bedroll without ceremony and turned away. "Night."

Francis watched Arthur's chest moving up and down, slower and slower until his breath became deep and even. His messy, sandy hair stuck out like a tuft of grass, and Francis thought Arthur could almost be cute if he wasn't so pushy and stubborn. Francis rested his head on his hand. The electric feeling in his chest had gotten more intense, and it frightened him. He hoped it wasn't what he thought. He hoped it wouldn't make his condition worse.

After he was sure Arthur was asleep he laid down next to him, curling up underneath one wing and arching the other over his companion.


	3. Chapter 3- Francis knows everyone

Chapter three, woot woot! Took a little longer, but things are still moving along. And a HUGE thank you to those who are following! It's an enormous encouragement boost to keep at it, best wishes to you!

A sharp, persistent noise woke Arthur. Or was it the intermittent rustling of feathers? It took a few moments for him to realize, as he blinked awake, that it was Francis. The Avian was curled up on his side, shivering and hacking violently.

"Ah, bloody-!" Arthur sat up, pushed Francis' wing away, and wriggled frantically out of his bedroll. "Come here."

He grabbed Francis' arm and pulled him to sitting. His wings drooped uselessly in the dirt and Francis slumped forward to rest his head against Arthur's shoulder.

"Désolé," He wheezed, taking the material of Arthur's shirt in a weak grasp.

"Don't give me that, breathe!" Arthur patted Francis' back. "You're going to be alright, just breathe."

The fire that had been blazing when they'd fallen asleep had been reduced to glowing embers. The forest was silent. The creatures of night were just now finding their beds, but the birds of morning had not awaken just yet. Arthur knew it would be sunrise soon, he could see it in the rim of the sky as it grew lighter when looked up to watch the stars fade away. He took a deep breath of dewy air; trying to calm his own heart from the scare and the sensation of being so close.

Francis' coughing calmed, his heavy breathing easing into inconsistent huffs. His head was spinning and his stomach felt tight and queasy. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus. The cloth between his fingers was warm and Arthur seemed to be the only thing in the world that wasn't whirling about at the moment.

It took a while for Francis to settle down, but he no longer wanted to move once he did. Arthur was warm and smelled good, like black tea, and Francis was so tired.

"Blimey, you're freezing," Arthur ran his hands over Francis' arms. "Here," he grabbed his bedroll, "Get in." Arthur stood and jogged over to the base of a tree.

Francis almost fell over when the warmth and stability retreated. He suddenly felt very alone, exposed. No, don't go! "Arthur?"

"I'm right here, you're going to be fine," Arthur dragged a branch to the fire pit, broke off pieces and tossed them in.

He summoned fire to ignite them, and then jogged back over. He coaxed Francis into the bedroll and had him lay down closer to the fire. They weren't far, Arthur thought, he could run to the town and get help. How did the spell for increased speed go?

Francis' hand on his arm jolted him from his racing thoughts, and Arthur knelt down.

"I am sorry I woke you," Francis said, speaking more deliberately than usual.

"Come now, Francis. Don't be like that," Arthur pushed hair out of the Avian's face. "I'm going to get someone who can help, yes? I'll be back in no time."

"I am fine," Francis insisted unconvincingly with a cough. He looked up with wide, frightened eyes, "Do not leave me, s'il te plait."

Arthur grimaced, looking toward the road and back. He wrinkled his nose and took a deep breath, "Damn it, Francis."

He sat and Francis pulled him down next to him. They stared at each other; Arthur with alert green irises searching for any excuse to go and Francis trying to blink the sleep out of his drooping lids so he wouldn't leave.

Arthur sighed and guided Francis into another embrace, "You're going to be alright, idiot."

Francis tensed in surprise, but the warmth… He buried his nose in Arthur's shirt and, with more effort than he'd like to admit, wrapped his wings back up around them.

"I know," he whispered, falling back asleep.

Arthur did not sleep well, or very much at all. Once the morning arrived he untangled himself from Francis as gently as he could, cleaned up their little campsite, and waited for him to wake up. It didn't take long.

They walked to the town in silence, trying to sneak glances at each other. The marketplace was bustling with activity and crowded with noisy patrons. Arthur kept is arm pressed against Francis' so he wouldn't lose him.

Francis grabbed his hand, "This way."

He led Arthur to a homey-looking pub that was obviously not open so early in the morning. He let go of his hand and peered into one of the windows.

"A bar? Francis, this doesn't help us," Arthur said, even though he really badly wanted a stiff drink.

Francis gestured for him to follow and pushed the heavy wooden door open. A bell rang and young man with auburn hair and dark eyes looked up from cleaning the bar.

"Ey! Can't you read? We're closed, Fucker," He growled.

"Bonjour," Francis smiled and walked over confidently. "Antonio around?"

The man scowled and looked back at the glasses he was supposed to polish, "Don't know him. Get out."

"He owns the place."

"Good for him."

"He lives upstairs."

"How nice."

Arthur's shoulders stiffened and he marched up next to Francis, "Now see here! Just tell us if this Antonio guy is here or not!"

"Bitch, does it look like he's here?" The man gestured dramatically to the large, empty room. "Are you done wasting my time yet?"

Francis' feathers puffed up defensively, but he took a deep breath and kept the smile on his face, "Can you just tell him Bonnefoy is here?"

"Listen, you dense motherfuckers," the man said slowly, "we are closed. I don't know who the hell you're talking about. Now you better leave this goddamn bar before-"

A curtain leading to the back snapped open and a bright-eyed man with dark messy hair stuck his head through, "Romano! What's with all of this shouting?"

"Toni!" Francis perked up.

Antonio blinked a few times before an infectious smile spilled across his face, "Francis!"

Arthur shot Romano a bewildered look, "What is your problem?"

Romano flipped him off. Antonio ran over to give Francis a bear hug, both of them talking animatedly about how nice the bar looked and how it had been so long. In no time they were seated at a table, delicious plates of hot food in front of them. Arthur dug into his immediately.

"So what brings you to my side of town, eh?" Antonio beamed, "Bring some water to the table, Romano."

"Arthur and I are headed to Drauferra," Francis started.

"Ah," Antonio sat back in his chair, his arms crossed. "You know, I've got a spare room. Good food. I could use a few extra hands around here. Any chance I could convince you to stay until things blow over?"

"Absolutely not," Arthur spoke up and the other two looked at him.

"Your water, bastard," Romano put the pitcher down on the table and stalked back to the bar.

"He needs immediate medical attention," Arthur pointed at Francis who didn't meet his eyes. "Although, this food is delicious, cheers."

Antonio shook his head and chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking again, "It's the old ticker again, is it?"

Francis pushed food around on his plate and didn't reply. Antonio took that as confirmation and stood up.

"A moment," he vanished into the backroom.

Arthur nudged his companion. "Eat something would you," he said softly. "Please?"

"I can take care of myself," Francis replied indignantly.

Arthur frowned, "Fine. Just trying to help." And went back to eating.

Francis took a bite, chewing carefully. His wings fluttered as he enjoyed the flavor, "You were right, it's good."

"Of course I'm right," Arthur said with a mouthful of food. "I'm always right."

Francis' laugh made Arthur feel optimistic; they still had time. They were going to be alright. He didn't even offer a retort.

Arthur's smile was brief, but warm. Francis realized that he wanted things to be like this, happy with Arthur, all of the time. Different circumstances would be ideal, of course, but it didn't matter so much now.

Suddenly, Francis realized what it was. He didn't want to think so, but the electric magnetic attraction he was feeling could only be one thing.

"What's wrong?"

Francis put a hand on Arthur's leg, his heart beating painfully in his chest, and leaned closer, "I need to tell you something."

Arthur leaned forward as well, "yes?"

Romano groaned from across the room, "Get a room already!"

Antonio came back into the room with a flourish of the curtain and with a paper in hand, "This may help you."

"Later," Francis straightened, blushing slightly.

"Oh hoh, was I interrupting?" Antonio teased.

Romano cleared his throat loudly and made a lewd gesture. Arthur shook his head at him, his face growing redder.

"Romano," Antonio frowned.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Could you take the trash out?"

Romano went to his task, muttering darkly.

"He's not all bad," Antonio insisted. "Just… compulsive?"

"What's on the paper, Toni?" Francis asked.

"Oh yes!" He handed it over.

Francis took the paper and Arthur leaned over to see it better.

"Things have not been good recently, you see, way too tense. But! There's an upside: Our old friend is back in town too. He might help you out."

"Gilbert's back?" Francis looked up from the letter.

"Called in the keep the peace," Antonio nodded. "We should get together, you know? Have a drink like old times when this all blows over."

"I would love that, mon ami," Francis grinned.

Within a few hours Arthur and Francis stood at a military blockade of the main path from the town to Drauferra.

"I'm not so sure about this," Arthur said cautiously as they approached a guard.

"Trust me," Francis said, waving away the comment. "This will work," He gave the soldier a friendly smile and showed him the paper. "Bonjour, we wish to speak with Colonel Beilschmidt."

"Beilschmidt?" Arthur asked, confused.

"Wait here," the soldier walked over to speak with an officer, then came back. "This way please."

They approached a tent that was spilling over with loud voices. Without warning the commander burst from it in a flurry of movement, causing anyone nearby to jump. The commander was an albino, with a shock of white hair and intense red eyes that swept over his surroundings. Aides jogged to keep up with his confident stride, and also with his orders which they ran to carry out.

"Francey-pants!" He walked over without missing a beat and clapped Francis on his shoulder. "Took you long enough to visit the awesome me!"

"It's good to see you, Gilbert," Francis beamed.

"Who's this?" He asked, looking over Arthur's appearance critically.

"This is Arthur. He's-" Francis paused. "With me."

"I see," Gilbert shook Arthur's hand vigorously. "It's about time you got an assistant."

"I'm not an assistant," Arthur said, flustered. "I'm a University student!"

Gilbert winked at him, "Ah yes, I understand. Gotta do what you gotta do to pay up, right?"

"Yes. I mean n-no, It's not like- Francis, tell him!"

Francis laughed, and it turned into a cough. Arthur held up a hand, looking concerned but Francis waved it away. Gilbert looked between the two of them.

"To Drauferra, is it?"

Arthur's eyes widened, "How did you know?"

Gilbert crossed his arms sagely, "Why else would you visit the awesome me? There's only one place for a student and someone in his condition to risk going."

"What do you mean my condition?" Francis asked crossly. "You don't know what's wrong."

"Don't have to, you look like shit," Gilbert replied matter-of-factly. "Lucky for you, the awesome me has a solution." He whirled towards the nearest aide, "SOMEBODY GET ME JONES!"

Francis pushed his hair back and half-heartedly tugged on his tunic, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't listen to him," Arthur said quietly, trying to pass the comment off as casual. "You look great."

Francis looked at Arthur. His hair stuck out all over the place, he had a smudge of dirt on his face, and his clothes were more sturdy than fashionable. Why hadn't he made him clean up at Antonio's? With a sigh he admitted to himself it was because he looked cute either way.

"What?"

Francis pecked Arthur's cheek and patted his shoulder. Arthur gave him a strange look and opened his mouth to say something, presumably an expletive, when a young Avian in military uniform landed in front of them. His vast wings were dark and eagle-like, but it contrasted with his blonde hair.

His glasses caught the light when he stood up straight and saluted, "Jones reporting, Sir!"

"Fantastic," Arthur muttered dryly. "Now there's two of them."

"Get these two to Drauferra in one piece, Private. As fast as possible," Gilbert instructed. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "And keep an eye out for Williams, report back with anything and everything," He added seriously. "Good luck," he pointed at Francis. "You owe me a drink." And walked away.

"Yes, sir!" Jones replied in a chipper voice, turning toward the pair.

His smile seemed to be permanently welded to his face, and he certainly seemed more solid than Francis.

He blinked at them a few times and then gasped, "Francis! I didn't recognize you!"

"For Pete's sake, do you know _everyone_?" Arthur asked.

"Hello, Alfred," Francis smiled, "You got so bi-UH!"

Alfred grabbed Francis in a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, hey! Careful!" Arthur shouted.

"Oh, it's fine," Francis said in a strained voice.

In an instant Alfred had turned to the mage and was shaking his hand, "Alfred F. Jones! Are you are?"

"Arthur," he replied, feeling a headache begin to form.

"Nice to meet you!" The next moment Alfred was already heading back to the path and waving for them to follow, "What're you waiting for? Let's go!"


	4. Chapter 4- Hanging out in trees with fam

Hello again! Here we are at chapter four! I'm not sure if this story will be much longer, there is at least one or two more chapters left. But either way I'll hopefully start to work on something else soon. Sorry in advance about the pacing of this one, still trying to get a hang of it. Suggestions welcome! Thanks for sticking with me!

I could get used to this, Arthur thought. Of course he missed his bed, but being wrapped up with Francis wasn't so bad. At least it was warm. The Avian's head rested on Arthur's chest to stay elevated, his breath slightly labored.

Arthur gently brushed Francis' hair with his fingers, and stared at his wings. They had been like a sturdy tent propped above his head only two days ago, but now Francis could no longer keep them up like that. Now they were nearly a blanket, draping between Francis' shoulders and the ground. The only thing keeping them from touching Arthur was careful positioning.

It frightened Arthur. He felt as if someone had set a stopwatch for his companion's demise and had started it without telling him, before he was ready to play this game. Yes, he could get used to this.

But he shouldn't.

"Hang in there," Arthur whispered, pulling him a little closer.

I'm trying, Francis thought as he drifted asleep. I'm trying.

"Pst, Francis."

Francis opened an eye blearily and looked over at Alfred who was squatting next to them.

"Can I come in?" Alfred fidgeted, looking out into the forest.

"Qu- No," Francis pulled his wings up over his head. "Go to sleep."

"Well, see, I tried," Alfred insisted, pushing the wing back down. "But it's cold, and I swear to god I saw a ghost, I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, Francis?"

"You're not a child anymore, Alfred," he grumbled.

"Bloody hell," Arthur muttered, blinking awake. "Am I not allowed to sleep?"

Francis sighed, "Alfred thinks he saw a ghost."

Arthur got very quiet, listening. Carried by a light breeze were the distant echoing giggles of fairies as they reveled. The faintest hint of magic sprinkled.

"Rubbish," Arthur scowled. "It's only some sprites."

A faint laugh bounced through the trees and Alfred's hair stood on end. Arthur stiffened.

"Move!" Alfred dove under Francis' wing, jostling the pair.

"Hey!"

"Watch it!"

"Oh man, you guys that was the ghost!" Alfred hissed. "It was, you heard that! Oh my god, you guys!"

They had heard it. Even worse, Arthur knew that laugh. But what made his face flush was that it looked as if Alfred could touch Francis' wings however much he wanted, and Francis didn't even seem to care.

"So what?" Arthur snapped irately, "So what if there's a ghost or not? What's he going to do to you? He's dead!"

"That's what they all say, until they get you!" Alfred insisted.

"He's not going to get you!"

"Who?" Francis asked. "Why do you call it 'him'?"

"The ghost! Because that's what he is."

"A ghost?" Alfred asserted, "You said there was no ghost."

"There isn't! Bah!" Arthur wriggled away, "Let go of me!"

He stood and crossed his arms against the chill, sulking away.

"Where are you going?" Francis pushed himself up to sitting.

"I'm keeping an eye out," Arthur snarled, disappearing into the trees. "Go back to sleep!"

Francis put his hands on his head and groaned in frustration. How was he supposed to get any sleep now?

"Yeah, but what's he looking out for if there isn't a ghost?" Alfred pointed out.

Francis hit him on the shoulder.

Arthur didn't go very far into the forest, just until he found a tall, sturdy pine tree. And for the second time that week he started to climb. The ghostly laughter tumbled from its branches, and he knew he had chosen the right one.

Only a few branches up he was greeted by a waving child. He was the spitting image of a younger Arthur, and was wearing sailor-style shirt and shorts, with a jaunty cap.

 _Arthur! Hi!_ The ghost beamed.

"Hello Peter," Arthur replied dryly, climbing by. "I was wondering if you would show up."

Peter appeared sitting above Arthur. _Of course! I wanted to see you, big brother_ , he said proudly. _Are you here to play?_

"No, I'm just passing through. I'm going to school," Arthur swung past him.

 _Are your friends going to school too?_ Peter asked, hanging upside-down by his knees. _I want to meet them!_

"My friends?"

 _With the feathers! They look like fun._ Peter giggled.

"We're not friends," Arthur stuttered, beginning to sweat as he climbed above the canopy. "They're heading to the hospital, I don't want you scaring them away."

 _So mean!_ Peter lamented. _I'm not allowed any friends._

Arthur finally breached the treetops, and he sat back against the tree to watch the sky lighten.

Peter appeared on the branch next to him. _Why don't you visit more?_

"I've been busy, Peter," Arthur said apologetically.

 _Will you visit from school?_

"I can try."

 _Which way is school?_

Arthur pointed toward the silver of sun that had begun to peek over the horizon.

"You can see it from here, that tower on the hill there. Half a day and I'll be settling in," Arthur said, his heart sinking.

Only half a day more with Francis, and he'd started it off being cross. Maybe this was a good thing, he thought. Maybe if he was angry it'd be easier to say goodbye, easier to not miss him.

Then again, maybe Francis would write?

 _Oh no,_ said Peter.

"What?"

 _You listen to me_. Peter stood in front of him with his hands on his hips trying to look authoritative. Really, he just looked cute. _You do not want to go that way, Arthur Kirkland. That way is trouble!_ He shook a finger as if he was trying to scold him. _There's death over there! Go around!_

"We don't have time," Arthur replied coolly.

 _Ooh!_ Peter stomped his foot. _Why don't you ever listen to me?_

"Well for one, you're like eight years old," Arthur teased. "And you're dead, what do you know?"

 _I'm twelve!_ Peter crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue.

"I know, I know," Arthur laughed. "But we'll be careful, alright? I promise."

"Promise what?" Francis landed next to him.

Arthur startled and lost his balance, but Francis caught his hand before he could fall and pulled him back. Suddenly they were very close together and Arthur could feel his face getting warmer.

"N-nothing," he stammered.

"Nothing?" Francis looked at him slyly through his lashes, "Really?"

"Yeah," Arthur breathed.

Francis brushed his nose over Arthur's cheek, "Are you still angry?"

Arthur could feel his mind clouding over, "….Angry about what?"

Arthur's heart fluttered, he could feel Francis' breath on his face. Francis' lips felt abuzz with anticipation, his skin prickling. The birds were chirping, darting through the forest excitedly. Time seemed like it was slowing down, the tension building.

Arthur was beginning to see the signs of Francis' illness more clearly. He had circles under his eyes, his face was pale and growing slightly gaunt. But despite that, he thought Francis looked beautiful in the morning light, like a painting. Francis wished to always remember how Arthur's sleepy eyes and bedhead looked, to keep him frozen in time like a photograph. He closed his eyes.

 _Are you going to kiss him?_ Peter whispered into Arthur's ear, eyes wide.

Arthur froze. Francis was going to leave him, or vice versa, in a matter of hours. But he wanted-

"No," Arthur mumbled.

"W-what?" Francis looked puzzled.

"I'm-" Arthur took a breath and sat back, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "What do you want, Francis?"

Francis looked at him for a moment, speechless, then glanced away, "Time to go." He slipped through the branches and glided down, wordlessly.

Arthur watched him go, then put his head in his hands, "Shit."

 _Wow! You really messed that up!_ Peter chirped. _He was pretty, you should have done it!_

"Shut up, you little pervert," Arthur grumbled, beginning his climb down.

Arthur walked down the road with his bedroll over his shoulder and Peter invisibly beside him. Peter kept turning to look back at Alfred and Francis who trailed behind. Alfred intermittently complained about how tedious walking was, as well as his brother Matthew, and how nice it was outside. Francis stared at Arthur's back, half-listening.

They finally reached the fork in the road, the right side led miles up the mountain toward the University and the hospital was in the opposite direction: down in the valley to the left. Arthur stared at the signs, waiting for the other two to catch up.

"You should go home, Peter," He said quietly.

 _I'd rather stay with you,_ Peter replied. _There's a playground there now._

"Then you should have lots of friends to play with."

 _I miss the house._

"Me too."

"Umm," Alfred cleared his throat and circled his ear with his pointer finger.

Arthur scowled, embarrassed, and Francis punched Alfred in the shoulder.

"Ow! Sorry," Alfred said unapologetically.

"A moment, please?" Francis said pointedly.

Alfred shrugged and walked further up the path to wait, his hands in his pockets.

"I suppose this is-" Francis started, then paused. "Listen," he took Arthur's hands. "I don't know why you are upset, but I can't leave it like this."

"Why not?" Arthur couldn't look him in the eye. "You have Alfred now, why don't you go flap all over him?" He said, trying to sound fierce but it came off lame.

Francis squinted at him, "…Is that really what this is about? Because he touched my wings?"

Arthur frowned and Francis burst into laughter. He let go of his hands and supported himself against his knees.

"What's so funny?" He huffed, "You give me this whole lecture about the one thing I'm not allowed to do, and then he gets to do it!"

Francis turned away, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "Oh là là, you mis-understand! You don't have to worry, Arthur!"

"I-I wasn't worried! I was just-"

"Look at you, all pouty, oh mon dieu," Francis put his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "He's family, Alfred's my brother. You don't have to worry!"

Arthur glanced suspiciously at Alfred, who waved. He could kind of see a family resemblance, but-

"You have different last names?"

"Ah, Oui," Francis scratched his chin. "I forget humans don't do that. We were raised by different branches of the family, you see? It can be a little complicated."

"I'll take your word for it."

Francis slid his hand over Arthur's heart, the smile drifting off his face. He looked as if he was going to say something, but thought the better of it and closed his mouth again.

He rested his forehead against Arthur's and closed his eyes, "Will you write?"

Arthur felt as though he had never been more embarrassed more times in a row in his life. But he felt his resentment dissolve with those three words.

"Yes, of course."


	5. Chapter 5- Everything goes wrong

"Not far now, bro-sef," Alfred announced, patting Francis on the shoulder.

Francis gave him a far-away smile as they walked on. It had only been a few hours since they'd parted ways with Arthur, but it felt like much longer. You've got it bad, Bonnefoy, he mentally scolded himself. Arthur wasn't even Avian, the culture that was so familiar to Francis would be completely foreign to him. They'd only met recently; he might not have any respect for it, for his friends, for his family. Francis had been told humans were odd, fickle things. Arthur could forget him, move on in a week or so.

But he couldn't help wondering if Arthur would like his classes. Would he get enough sleep, or stay up studying with a pencil between his teeth? Who was going to make sure he ate enough? Would he make friends? What if he found a human partner? Would he be happier?

"God, will you cut that out already?" Alfred groaned.

"Quoi?"

"All that sighing! Look, I know you've bonded but it's not like he's dead," Alfred stuffed his hands in his pockets and shot Francis a sly side-glance.

Francis puffed up, startled, "How did you know?"

"Hey, I know I'm not always the best at sensing the mood but it's pretty obvious," Alfred turned to face his brother, sauntering backwards. "He's got no style, stubborn, kind of frumpy and angry, he's got giant eyebrows,"

"Ey! Watch out, Alfred," Francis chided.

"See! He doesn't need defending, he can fend for himself. He's not even your type and you were all over him."

"Alfred."

"It's not like you were getting any," Alfred continued, undeterred. "Besides, you argue like an old married couple so-" Alfred bonked his head on a low tree branch and turned back around, rubbing his head, "Ow!"

"You deserve that," Francis said, crossing his arms. "I told you to watch."

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred shoved his brother and Francis laughed. "But really, how does it feel, finally?"

Francis thought about it. When he was younger he had hoped he would never become bonded; he could continue to be happy and single, having a fling if it felt right. But now that seemed pointless. There was only one person for him.

"It's… intense," He shook his head.

Alfred nodded sagely, as if he had just taught Francis a valuable lesson somehow.

Francis sighed, "I know it is not the same for humans. I tried to tell him, but I'm worried he might not understand. I don't want to frighten him away or anything."

"I dunno, Francis," Alfred smirked. "He seemed pretty nutty about you, if I had to guess."

"You think so?" Francis asked, hopefully.

"I mean, it's kinda hard to tell because he's so grumpy all the time but, yeah sure."

"Gee, thanks," Francis said sarcastically.

"Sure thing!" Alfred smiled, "Hold on, do you hear that?"

They paused to listen and an explosion erupted across the road.

Arthur's boots echoed in the long hallways of the University. The stairwells twisted and turned through the maze-like castle, and the windows displayed the vast gardens and grounds where students could roam. The broad walls were paneled in dark wood, the floors in light marble. The entire institution seemed to instill a hushed, safe environment for learning.

Arthur took a deep breath and sensed the air was thick with residual magic and the smell of old books. It already felt like home, and a feeling of accomplishment and excitement settled in his stomach. But behind that he felt slightly guilty, not to mention worried. He shook his head to clear it, Francis was probably fine. They had most likely made it to the hospital already.

His tour guide was a smiling girl with a blonde bob, who introduced herself as Emma. She led the way to the Health Magic wing of the building as he trailed behind, trying to soak in his surroundings.

"This is where most of your classes will be," she explained. "This is the Health Magic Basics classroom. Professor Honda teaches. You'll have to take this at some point, or test out. Oh! Class is in session, want to listen in for a moment?"

The petit Professor was explaining how to perform a lifeline check, "It is… vital to monitor a patients vitals. Heh."

Emma did a face-palm at the poor joke.

"This basic version should show just the heartbeat. More advanced options can observe stress, location, levels of pain, or even brain activity."

The professor had them all attempt to measure his vitals and he explained how to determine other things from the heartbeat. Arthur was pleased at how easy he found it. The thin pulsing red line was only visible to him, but when it connected with the Professor he felt it.

The Professor looked his way, surprised at the strong connection, and smiled gently before turning back to his class, "Keep practicing. Soon enough this will be exceedingly simple for you. Distance should not be an issue, the only requirement is for you to have met the patient."

Arthur chewed on his lip. It wouldn't hurt to try to see how Francis was doing, would it? Just to see if he could? It would make him feel better. It's for education, he told himself, and reached out.

Arthur.

Francis' eyes snapped open and he gulped for air. Everything hurt. His face was pressed into the dirt, but it felt warm and wet. A throbbing pain pierced his head. He pushed himself up on his elbows, blood dripping across his cheek. His eyes wouldn't focus, everything was dissolving into a blur.

Alfred was shouting at someone, he sounded muffled and far away.

Arthur was not there.

But Francis could feel his familiar touch. He took a deep breath, concentrating on the feeling. Everything was going to turn out fine. A sharp pain knocked him on his face again. He clutched at his chest, eyes watering. Heavy footfalls were coming his way, more shouting.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to go like this: confused and in pain. He told himself that he was not allowed to die unless he was holding Arthur's hand.

Arthur was running harder than he thought he could. He ignored Emma's confused exclamations and only focused on finding an exit. The building suddenly seemed like a labyrinth. Where was the exit, damn it?!

But running around in panicked circles like a maniac wasn't going to help him, or Francis. Something must have gone horribly wrong if his vitals were in such bad shape. He had to be logical to fix this problem. He had to stay calm.

He paused to get his bearings and catch his breath. He leaned against a window, and it swung open, sending him tumbling into the air.

Luckily he wasn't very far up. Luckily he landed on something soft.

"Ouch!"

A few smaller feathers floated in the air. Arthur rubbed his aching head and sat up. The Avian in front of him did the same. He brushed dirt from his uniform and pushed his blond hair from his face before reaching out to collect his glasses that'd been knocked free.

"A-alfred? Where's Francis!" Arthur demanded, confused.

The man looked at him wide-eyed and just as confused as he was, and Arthur realized it wasn't Alfred. His hair was longer, his wings a bit lighter in color, and his eyes seemed to be indigo rather than blue. Plus, this one seemed a little worse for wear. He looked tired, and had a few bandages on his arms and one on his cheek.

"O-oh, I am so sorry!" Arthur stood and pulled the other man to his feet, embarrassed. "I thought you were someone else."

"That's alright," The man replied, his voice soft. "You know my brother?"

"Brother?" Oh, come on. Another one? Arthur thought, how many brothers does Francis have?

"Matthew Williams," he smiled and shook Arthur's hand, but he was clearly concerned. "You're looking for Francis?"

Arthur took a deep breath, swallowing his pride a little bit, and explained everything.

"Oh dear," Matthew's expression said a lot more. "Which way?"

Arthur turned to point, "The hospital's that way, but I don't think they ever made it. I have to see if they're alright," Arthur lamented. "I should have never left them, I should have made sure, I sh-"

"Hold on,"

"Sorry, what?"

Matthew looped his arms around Arthur and they were airborne with a few powerful pumps of his wings. Arthur clutched Matthew's sleeves for dear life, swearing incessantly. They sped through the sky, the chilly air whipping through their hair. Arthur's eyes started to water, but he was too frightened to be cold.

"I apologize for interrupting," Matthew shouted above the wind. "What where you saying?"

"S-shit, Please don't drop me!"

Matthew chuckled.

 _He's nice!_ Said Peter, zipping by.

Why is my life like this? Arthur stared at the horizon line. I could be drinking tea right now.

In no time they were soaring over the path.

"Tell me if you see anything!" Matthew said, "I've been trying to scout this area."

Arthur felt filled with dread, "What do you mean, trying?"

"Eh…"

Francis sat in the dirt, leaning heavily against Alfred's shoulder as a field medic patched them up. They were in a loose formation of other prisoners, around a campfire. Soldiers mingled around, keeping a sharp eye on them. Alfred kept fiddling with the shackles on his wrists, but Francis just stared at his.

"Just a precaution, we don't want any trouble," a soldier had explained about the restraints. "You should be sent back to your homes soon."

But home was in the wrong direction.

"You're all set," the medic concluded, before turning to a guard. "Watch out for this loud, dopey one with the glasses, the sad one isn't going anywhere."

"Hey," Alfred scowled.

"Rude," muttered Francis.

"Don't worry, Francis," Alfred lowered his voice. "I'm gonna save us, get us out of here in no time."

Francis perked up, "You've got a plan?"

"Well no, not an entire plan," Alfred explained.

Francis gave him a look, "How much of a plan do you have?"

"Like… eight percent? Maybe five percent? Just the cool part."

Francis rolled his eyes and looked over the group around them.

"Hey, it's a start!"

He spotted a bored-looking young soldier guarding the tree-line, and started to form an idea.

"I can contribute about forty percent to your plan, Alfred," Francis said slowly. "But we'll have to improvise the rest."

A mischievous smile slid onto Alfred's face, "Yes, go on."

An arrow whizzed past and Matthew abruptly changed direction. Arthur was glad he hadn't eaten much. Another arrow flew from the woods and Matthew rolled aside to avoid it.

"Hang on there," Matthew warned.

"I can't hang on any tighter!" Arthur snapped.

Matthew ignored the comment, "here we go."

He sped up, jerking back and forth in a zig-zag pattern and dove closer to the tree tops. Arthur's legs flopped side to side like a ragdoll.

"L-look there's smoke!" A plume of smoke zipped past Arthur's fluctuating line of sight.

Matthew changed direction again, sucking in air as they dogged a fireball. He angled up, then dove, spinning. He tucked his wings flat against his back and they plunged into the trees. They wove around the trunks, and branches whipped at their arms and legs. A large leaf smacked Arthur in the face. Matthew braced with his knees up, shoved off of a tree with his boots, and tucked backwards into a flip. At the last moment he unfolded his wings entirely, and they landed heavily on the forest floor.

Arthur fell onto his face, kissing the ground. "Oh my god, land," he mumbled.

Matthew patted his shoulder, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course," Arthur stood stiffly and pulled his hood over his head, trying to casually pass off his behavior. "Let's go."

"But, won't you get in trouble?" Francis asked innocently as the soldier unlocked his shackles.

"No, no, of course not."

"That's so brave," Francis cooed, trying his best to appear flirty and confident instead of exhausted.

Alfred caught his eye over the soldier's shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up before beginning to sidle into position. Honestly Francis couldn't believe it had actually worked, but they weren't in the clear yet. Just pretend he's Arthur, he told himself. Immediately a flood of questions about family, background, and favorite things filled his head and he realized with chagrin he'd never asked the real Arthur about any of that. Time for plan B: flattery.

"So, what's someone like you doing on guard duty?" Francis leaned forward and ran his hand over the soldier's epaulette. "You've obviously got much better judgement than any of these other brutes."

The soldier began to rant about being too young, something about so-and-so putting his friends in charge, and listing his other talents and abilities. Francis smiled charmingly and nodded a lot, acting like he didn't care when the soldier put a hand on his hip. It was surprisingly easy, this guy was so blatantly new on the job.

"Francis!"

His heart stuttered for a moment when he turned to see Arthur running toward them through the trees. The soldier jumped and reached for his sword. Francis locked his hands together into a fist and swung as hard as he could at the man's head. The soldier crumpled and that, unfortunately, got the attention of the others.

"Hey!"

Alfred had snuck up behind another soldier, and he seized his sword, swinging it above his head, "Come get me motherfuckers!" He laughed.

Chaos erupted as other prisoners took the opportunity to scatter every which way. The small band of soldiers started shouting and sprinting about in confusion, some shooting arrows at the retreating prisoners. Francis darted into the trees. Alfred swung wildly, having way too much fun. Matthew appeared and dove into the fray. He landed next to his brother, already punching.

"Mattie!" Alfred said joyfully. "Where ya been, fella?"

"This isn't really the time, Al."

An arrow buried itself in Arthur's shoulder. Francis took the last few steps flying and tackled him, a few more zipping overhead.

"Ah!" Arthur snapped the shaft off and scrambled to his feet.

Francis grabbed his hand and started to run. Another arrow struck Arthur's leg and he fell, dragging Francis with him. Arthur forced himself to stand and started to summon a shield. Francis got up unsteadily, wheezing harshly. He put a hand on Arthur's arm, and Arthur's heart sank. Neither of them were going anywhere.

When Arthur was in school learning basic destruction theory he had thought it was impractical. Destruction was for meatheads and bullies; people fascinated with brute force. Arthur was always slightly embarrassed that he had talent for it. Even though the teacher had stressed the importance of self-defense, he told himself that he would never have to really use it. But here he was, for the second time in only a few days, evaluating the effectiveness of the spells he knew and how much energy would be practical to put into each round as soldiers came into view. There were only four of them, but that was enough.

Everything happened at once. The soldiers rushed forward, weapons drawn, and Arthur shot lightning. He managed to hit one immediately and narrowly missed the second, leaving the man's collar smoking. One soldier clashed against Arthur's shield, forcing it closer. Arthur held up a hand to re-enforce it as another fighter lunged at him from the side. Arthur aimed a fireball over his head, and Francis swept his leg out to trip him. Francis stomped on his outstretched sword, pinning it, and Spartan-kicked him back.

Francis picked up the sword and stood back-to-back with Arthur, slashing a few times experimentally. The soldier jumped back onto his feet, wiping blood from his nose and taking a few steps back. The three warriors formed a wide semi-circle, glancing at each other. One made a strange hand motion and the others nodded.

One rushed Francis, who blocked the blow. Another ran between them, swinging his sword and forcing them apart. Arthur wound up to blow them away, but the soldier with the broken nose tackled him and started punching. Arthur dug his fingers into the man's shirt and zapped him him point-blank, but it was too late. Francis was on the ground.

The two remaining soldiers turned to Arthur, swords glistening. Arthur could only hear his heartbeat in his ears, he felt sick. His eye was swelling shut, his mind went blank. He didn't know what he did, exactly. He raised a hand; there was bright light and blistering heat, and all that was left of one soldier was a pair of boots and a half-melted sword.

Then a slightly battered-looking Alfred and Matthew appeared. Alfred went for the remaining soldier and Matthew ran toward Arthur. They might have been speaking, or even screaming, but Arthur couldn't hear them. He stumbled to Francis. His left wing had been amputated from his body, lying uselessly in the dirt. There was too much blood.

"I'm sorry," Arthur stuttered, aligning the limb and pressing both hands against the wound.

His palms began to heat, his fingers slick, but he didn't stop. Matthew squeezed his shoulder. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the burning sensation in his hands. He knew this was not the correct way to use this spell, but what else could he do? He gritted his teeth against the pain.

Then something brushed his arm. He opened his eyes to see Francis reaching for him, face frighteningly pale. Arthur kept compressing the wing, but took Francis' hand and held it tight.

"Stay awake, damn you," Arthur muttered, tears starting to cloud his vision.

Alfred squatted down and carefully scooped up his brother. Arthur hesitantly released the wing; it stayed attached. Alfred took off, Francis slid from Arthur's fingers, and they disappeared leaving Matthew and Arthur staring after them.

Hi, me again! I feel like a lot got crammed into this one. More on that "bonding" business later, it might need a little more explanation. Emma is supposed to be Belgium. I'm sorry if this one turned out a bit melodramatic and gory, (and kinda long) I promise the rest won't be like this. Let's see how it goes from here! Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6- Centaurs,Mittens,&GhostsOhMy!

Matthew helped Arthur get to his feet. They stood for a moment in silence; dusk creeping around the trees and rocks of the forest, steadily turning the world gray.

Arthur drew a shaking hand over his forehead. It was sticky. The blood on his hands was darkening, his palms seemed to pulse with magic and searing pain he couldn't stop. His whole body suddenly seemed to ache, and he put his hands on his knees.

"Let's go."

Arthur looked up at Matthew, dark spots obscuring his vision, "Where?"

"The hospital, of course," Matthew said gently, concern in his tone. "You don't look so well."

"Rubbish! I'm fine," Arthur's voice was hoarse.

"Yes, yes, right," Matthew started to become a little frustrated and changed tactics. "But Francis will need you to be there, just so he knows you're okay."

Arthur sighed and tried to stand up straight, but he wobbled, "Very well."

Matthew squatted and held out his arms as if he was going to give a piggyback ride. Arthur paused.

"You obviously mean something to Francis," Matthew explained. "And that means you're cool with me, okay?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment, then stiffly got on and Matthew stood up easily, supporting his knees.

"I just… didn't know if I'm too heavy," Arthur explained quickly.

Matthew laughed. He took a few running steps and took off. This ride was much smoother than Arthur's last one, but he didn't remember much of it. Once they were soaring over the treetops he could see the light of the bright moon shimmering over the leaves like water. The fast air felt cool and soothing over his bruised face. Arthur rested his head against Matthew's shoulder and lost consciousness.

Francis dreamt he was human. He felt heavier, connected with the earth somehow. It was as if gravity had decided to increase, but he didn't mind. It felt strange, novel, he was almost enjoying it. He walked the cobblestone streets of a town he'd never seen before and didn't feel lost. Other humans didn't give him a second glance, and he didn't worry about knocking a child down on accident. Kids laughed and ran past, enjoying the sunshine and playing in the shade of trees. He smiled to himself and ambled along, enjoying the beautiful colors and the warm sun on his face.

"Hey! Francis!" An unfamiliar voice called.

He looked around, puzzled.

"Down here!"

A young blond boy wearing a sailor-style clothes stood directly in front of him, waving and grinning.

"Oh, bonjour," Francis smiled back.

"Wow, you are pretty," The boy replied, wide-eyed.

Francis couldn't help but stand up a little straighter and ran his hand through his hair, "Merci beaucoup! It's a blessing, it's a curse, what can I say?"

"Ice Cream?" the boy offered him a perfectly-formed cone with neat vanilla and chocolate scoops.

"Oh! Ah, merci," Francis wasn't hungry. Truthfully he wasn't even a fan, his palate was a little too refined for such cheap sugary confections. But he took the cone anyway to be polite.

The boy smiled and took Francis' other hand, "Let's go! I want to show you something."

His hand was small and cold, and as they walked down the sunny, warm street together one thought began to nudge the back of Francis' mind: something is not right here.

"Clear!"

Arthur's eyes snapped open as the electricity from the defibrillator nudged his heartbeat back into sync. He looked around, dazed, and the doctor standing over him shone a light into his eyes.

"Yes, good," the doctor muttered. "Make a note, Ms. Hedervary: no healing magic is to be applied to this patient until we get this MII under control. I'll re-evaluate in twenty-four hours, but I don't suspect any real progress for approximately seventy-two hours. All treatment until then must be manual: bandages, salve. Monitor closely."

"Yes, of course, Dr. Edelstein."

The doctor straightened primly, his neatly-groomed hooves clicking against tile floor as he turned toward the door, "You know where to find me if I'm needed." He said loftily.

"Yes, Dr. Edelstein."

Arthur could see Alfred and Matthew were standing by the door; Matthew trying to stay out the way of the medical staff and Alfred not caring if he was in the way or not. Both had been patched up, but looked fine. Matthew had obviously cleaned up and pulled his hair back, but Alfred still looked a little disheveled and had dirt on his uniform.

"Excuse me, um, Doctor," Matthew piped up. He held a palm up and folded his wings back to not look threatening, "I'm sorry to ask, but isn't there…" He gestured vaguely. "Anything else that can be done?"

Alfred glanced from his brother to the doctor, his arms crossed.

"Not at the moment," Dr. Edelstein delicately adjusted his glasses. "But rest assured your friend will recover eventually."

"That's it?" Alfred spread his wings a little wider in the already cramped space, partially blocking the way out. "That's what they pay you the big bucks for, huh? To just say some stuff and leave?"

"To diagnose, yes," Dr. Edelstein sniffed. "And save lives, if you would excuse me."

The centaur waited patiently, his hands folded over his clipboard, but Alfred didn't move.

"Boys," Arthur croaked, closing his eyes against his insistent headache.

"Thank you, sir," Matthew shoved Alfred out of the way.

The centaur exited without a word, leisurely making his way to his next appointment and Matthew shot his brother a disapproving look.

"What?"

"Come on, Al," Matthew sighed. "What was that?"

"I don't like him, Mattie!" Alfred shrugged, "I don't like guys like that."

"What, doctors?"

"Stuck-up slackers!"

"That's enough!" The nurse burst out, not pausing in her work. "Dr. Edelstein does wonders for this hospital! Please sit down, Mr. Jones."

Alfred looked at Matthew, taken back. Matthew gestured to the chair and Alfred pouted, flopping down into it. They all watched the nursing staff buzz around, adjusting a machine next to Arthur's bed and nurse Hedervary applied ointment to his bruised face.

"How do you feel, Mr. Kirkland?" she asked kindly.

Arthur hurt all over. He was tired and sore, and his head felt fuzzy as if he couldn't think quickly. He couldn't quite scrape up a smile, but he put on a brave face and answered, "Fine, Miss. Thank you."

Arthur glanced at the machine next to his bed and sat up to see it more clearly. It was a box of dials and switches on top of a metal pole and had wheels at the base. It was connected to two thin, long tubes that ran to oversized oven-mitt-looking coverings on his hands and secured almost at his elbows with drawstrings. He stared blankly at the pattern of dancing waffles on his mittens. He lifted one to examine it, and it was heavier than he anticipated. His palms felt sweaty, so he started to take it off.

"Do not remove these, Mr. Kirkland," nurse Hedervary pulled the mitten back up and secured it in one movement. "You're suffering from a magically inflicted injury, specifically hypermagusia. Your body is producing too much energy and this siphon, and some medication, will help your levels become stable." She explained.

"Is it serious?"

She paused, "We won't know the extent of the damage until things even out, mostly likely in a few days. But don't worry, you'll be fine." She adjusted the gauze on his shoulder.

"I see." Arthur turned the information over in his head, "I need to send some dispatches."

Alfred perked up, "Oh, that's right, me too! Gimme the deets, Artie. I can send them all at once."

"I just need to tell my Uncle where I am, and that I'm okay. And the University too, I guess," he added. Truthfully Arthur didn't know where he stood with the University, he hadn't even thought about it when he'd run off to find Francis.

Oh no, Francis.

His eyes grew wide and his mind suddenly felt clear, despite whatever pain killers they had given him.

"Got it!" Alfred left the room without any further information.

"If you need anything else, ring the bell, okay?" The nurse gestured to a small bell on the wall, "I'll come check on you again in a little while, okay? We'll have you feeling better in no time." She smiled kindly and followed Alfred out.

Arthur pointed at Matthew, which did not have the intended effect with his mittens, "Where's your brother?" he demanded.

"He just left."

"Not him! The other one!"

"Ah," Matthew scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking much more tired. "Francis is in surgery right now."

"Has he just gone in?"

Matthew shook his head, "It's been a few hours."

Arthur stared out at the hallway, trying to decide what to do. What was there for him to do? Find the surgery theater, then what? Wait there? What good would that do? Maybe he could convince them to let him in if he told them he was a student. But the thought of Francis laid out, cut open, surrounded by faceless surgeons… he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, putting his mittens over his face.

Matthew pulled the curtain closed across the doorway and went to sit the chair previously occupied by his brother.

He folded his hands between his knees and sighed, "You need to sleep. As soon as they tell us he's out, I'll wake you up and we can go see him, alright?"

Arthur laid back and stared at the ceiling.

Francis rolled the ice cream cone between his palms absent-mindedly as the boy sat next to him, wolfing down his own dairy treat. They were perched on the front steps of a corner store that was currently closed, looking across the street.

"You don't want your ice cream?" The boy looked hurt.

"Oh, yes, I tried some," Francis lied, "It was very good. I'm just full."

The boy seemed satisfied with that and jumped to his feet, finishing his snack, "Listen, Francis, I have something important to talk to you about!"

"Oui?"

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but then paused, "I'm not sure what to say first!"

Francis couldn't help but crack a small smile as his new friend organized his thoughts. He had to admit there was something familiar about him; the blond hair and bushy eyebrows, and the way his nose twitched as he thought reminded him of someone else. Still, he became distracted again by a growing feeling of discomfort. He was physically uncomfortable, but he couldn't pinpoint the source or how to ease it.

"Right!" The boy's shrill voice drew his attention, "This was our house," he gestured across the street.

The house seemed very cozy. It was white, with deep green shutters, and matching roof. A neat line of daffodils ran parallel to a wide, hospitable front porch and tendrils of ivy climbed over one side, blanketing it in cheery leaves. Every inch of the façade seemed to say welcome home.

"It's lovely," Francis said.

"It was."

Without warning an explosion ripped through half of the house; windows blew out and debris went airborne. Francis jumped to his feet, dropping the ice cream on the ground. A neighbor who had been watering their flowers dropped his hose and sprinted across the lawn toward the burning wreckage, shouting for someone to get help. Another emerged from the same house, yelling for the man to wait, but he didn't pause. Francis could only watch, wide-eyed, as the tall, sturdy man leapt onto the porch and knocked the front door in with his shoulder. Francis took a few running steps forward, but the heat was too much and he had to step back.

The boy took Francis' hand and they stood in the lawn for a moment.

"Something went wrong in the kitchen, something with the stove," he explained. "But… I didn't feel a thing. So, it wasn't as bad as it could have been I guess."

Francis felt himself go cold when he realized what the boy meant. He'd never seen a ghost before, let alone spoken to one, and now he was holding the hand of one.

"Why do you show me this?"

The neighbor emerged from the house, coughing smoke from his lungs and carrying the unmoving form of a woman. He laid her on the ground as medics rushed onto the scene, and turned to go back into the house when the roof collapsed. The man stood there in shock, still as a rock.

"Because," the boy looked away soberly, "I don't think my brother ever got over it."

"…Your brother?"

Francis followed the specter's gaze and saw him. There was no mistaking the ten year old who stood at the edge of the yard, green eyes brimming with tears. His knees were skinned and his clothes dirty from running back from the woods where he had been playing. A kind neighbor went to him, steering him away from the scene and speaking comforting words. Francis moved to follow them, but found he couldn't. The ghost's grip suddenly felt like an iron vise.

"Arthur went to live with our Uncle's family, and they were very kind to him," he continued. "But he's angry. He's the only one who made it, and he's still angry."

"Let me go," Francis felt panic rising in his chest. A desperate need to be near Arthur pulled at him.

"Francis, please," the boy said softly, "Be patient."

Francis looked back at the sad little ghost.

"Be patient with my brother," he looked back at him with glassy eyes. "He's infuriating, but he needs you to be there, do you understand?"

Francis stopped struggling and squatted to be at eye-level. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm all Arthur has left, so before I need you to promise me something," the ghost puffed out his chest as if to be authoritative, but was still just very cute. "He cares about you. He needs you. Promise me you'll be there for him? That you'll stick around?"

"I promise," Francis replied softly. "…I need him too."

The boy smiled, a wide infectious grin.

And Francis woke up.

Let's see here: the Doctor is Austria, the nurse Hungary, and the helpful neighbor was supposed to be Sweden and the other one comforting Arthur was Finland. (I wasn't able to make it really specific though, the description just felt bulky to me, so if you'd prefer to imagine the neighbors as other characters feel free.) I'm sorry if the thing with Peter was a little confusing, I tried to make it clear who he was even though Francis didn't know. Thank you so much again for reading!


	7. Chapter 7- Time enough to talk

Francis pried his eyes open and was relieved to find the room was dark. He slowly shifted to better look around but pain erupted through his body. He clenched his hands, grabbing something solid, and didn't let go until the pain ebbed away. He blinked tears away and felt something move to his right.

"Francis?"

He very carefully let his head roll to the side to see Arthur holding his hand. His eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark, and in the dim light the outline of how his hair stuck up on one side gave away the fact he had fallen asleep, sitting at his bedside and slumped on the bed.

"Are you alright?" Arthur whispered.

"Ouai," Francis reached out to gingerly brush Arthur's cheek. "You?"

"Yeah."

Francis attempted to move again, but was stopped short once more by a wave of pain. When his vision cleared Arthur was standing over him with concern on his face. Francis gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile and tried to catch his breath. Arthur hissed in frustration and rested his forehead against Francis'.

"God, Francis," Arthur's voice was low with emotion. "Don't scare me like this again."

Francis laughed dryly and threaded a hand through Arthur's hair. He pressed his lips against Arthur's nose, his cheek, his ear. He wrapped this other arm around Arthur's shoulder to pull him closer, and buried his face in his shoulder.

"Arthur,"

"Yes?"

"Why are you wearing mittens?"

A few hours earlier Arthur had collapsed into a chair in a waiting room on the other side of the hospital. Because despite Matthew's insistence that the mage sleep, their shared anxieties over Francis' condition had triumphed. Matthew had sat next to him with his wings folded neatly over the back of his chair, watching people pass by the door. The well-lit, spacious room was empty and silent except for them and occasional passer-by. Arthur rested his head against the back of his chair, but fixed his gaze on the doors leading to the surgery theater.

 _I know what you're thinking._ Peter said seriously, sitting on his brother's opposite side.

"Oh, do you now?" Arthur replied.

"Hmm?" Matthew looked at him.

Arthur shook his head, "Nothing, sorry."

 _Last time, it was Mum in there_ , Peter continued, staring at the door. _And she didn't come out._

Arthur felt his chest tighten and he gritted his teeth. He wanted to yell at his brother, make him leave. Didn't he know what a horrible time he'd had? He didn't need this. He needed peace, something that'd make him feel better not worse.

 _But you don't have to worry, Francis will. It's going to be okay this time._

Arthur froze and looked at his brother, with wet eyes and the tension in his torso easing. Peter beamed back with his eternally youthful smile.

 _I may be dead, but_ _I do know some things_ , Peter kissed his brother's forehead and vanished.

"I know," Arthur mumbled, rubbing the tears away before they could fall.

Matthew eyed him sideways, and patted Arthur's shoulder sympathetically.

After only a few days Matthew and Alfred were looking good as new, and were allowed to leave, but they were constantly in and out to see their brother. Francis was sitting up straighter in bed, no bruises or scrapes to be seen expect for his injured wing that was in a splint and stuck out oddly. However, without the benefit of magical remedies Arthur was still limping and bruised almost a week later.

Despite the protests of his nurse, he managed to sneak across the hospital once or twice a day to see how Francis was doing. And it was about time, he figured, to do it again. Arthur slid out of bed, grabbed the machine he was attached to, and whipped open the curtain across the doorway open just to find Nurse Hedervary and Dr. Edelstein on the other side, looking surprised.

"Going somewhere, Mr. Kirkland?" The doctor asked.

Arthur couldn't decide if he should lie or not.

He glanced at the nurse and she gave him a knowing smile, "You can visit your friend after we get a look at those hands. We're here to take your syphon."

"Oh, yes, of course," Arthur sheepishly sat back down on the bed.

It had taken longer than expected for this to happen, they had wanted to be careful. But Arthur was relieved that he was finally going to be rid of the dancing waffles forever. When the nurse took his mittens off, his hands looked pale but the cool air felt blissful against his skin after so long in the humid gloves.

"Palms up, please." The doctor said.

Arthur complied, and his stomach sank. His hands didn't look like his own. They were scarred and looked as if a layer of him had melted and not re-formed quite the same. The medical personnel exchanged a look, and the doctor blew air out of his nose.

"Ah," the centaur folded his arms.

"Ah?" Arthur looked between the two, "What does he mean: Ah?"

Nurse Hedervary chewed on her lip of a second before sitting down on the bed next to Arthur, "Mr. Kirkland, we have good news and bad news for you."

Matthew insisted he push Francis along the hallway in a wheelchair. Francis could get around without much of a problem, but his brothers wanted to be careful while he finished healing.

Alfred walked beside them, with his hands in his pockets, "Why you gotta walk so slow, Mattie?" He complained, turning to face them and walk backwards.

"There's no reason to rush," Matthew slowed down more, just to annoy his brother. "It's not like he's going any… where…"

They stopped in front of Arthur's room. The curtain was drawn wide open and Arthur was pulling on his cloak, back in his own clothes. The hospital gown was crumpled on the bed and all the machinery had been tucked back into storage. Arthur saw them out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. He just continued to fumble with his buttons.

"Hey Artie…" Alfred began.

"Where are you going?" Francis interrupted, standing.

He walked over and tugged on the hem of Arthur's cloak to straighten it before starting to do up the buttons correctly.

Arthur sighed, "…thank you."

Francis hummed and straightened his collar, smoothed his shoulders down, waiting for a response.

"They said I'm free to go," Arthur finally replied. "They were able to treat me and I should heal up in a few hours."

"Oh, but this is fantastic!" Francis enthused, "So why do you look so glum? Or is that just your face?" He teased, pinching Arthur's cheek.

Arthur swatted his hand away, and Francis laughed. The Avian was more relieved that Arthur had already begun to look better than worried about him leaving again. The University was close enough. But the smile slid from his face at what his companion said next.

"I see you're feeling better as well," Arthur said, looking away. "I'm going home."

Francis' forehead crinkled, "W-why? You came all the way out here for school and now you want to go back? Did you lose your spot?"

Arthur didn't reply, but Francis noticed he tucked his hands up into the ends of his sleeves.

"…I guess it doesn't matter," Francis continued in a gentler tone. "I'm coming with you, regardless."

"No, no, Francis," Arthur took a deep, weary breath before continuing. "Truthfully, I don't know where I'm going anymore. Dr. Edelstein said that I can't… I can't use magic like I used to anymore. I damaged my hands. If I use magic at all I could hurt myself, or someone else…"

"Arthur, that doesn't matter to me."

"Well it matters to me!" Arthur shot back, "I did everything I could to get accepted to that University! And now I'm-" He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face, "I'm sorry…. I need to figure out what I should do next, and you're not ready to leave here yet."

"Could you wait for me, then? S'il vous plait, Arthur," Francis pleaded softly, reaching out to take Arthur's hand.

It felt strange and uneven against his own, like a completely different hand. Francis kissed his palm and threaded his fingers through Arthur's.

"Let me stay by your side, I want to help how I can… Arthur, I love you."

"Oh shit," Alfred whispered excitedly, looking back and forth between them.

Arthur's face flushed red. Francis shifted sideways, blushing himself, and drew his good wing up to give them some privacy, shooting his brothers a look over his shoulder. Matthew took the cue and pulled Alfred out of the room by the arm, yanking the curtain shut over the door behind them. Once his loud protests had faded away Francis turned back.

Arthur wouldn't look him in the eye, "How can you say that?" He mumbled, "We've only known each other a few days. We barely know anything about each other, you can't just… say that."

"D'accord, I know you're stubborn and grumpy all this time," Francis began teasingly, but went back to being serious, "And I know you're smart and talented, with or without your magic. And I know you're alone… I know you're sad…"

Francis went down on one knee. He looked into Arthur's face, and he finally looked back. Arthur was trying and failing to mask his emotions, in his confused, messy state. Francis held Arthur's hand between both of his own. He squared his shoulders and straightened his wings as much as he could, aiming to look more confident than he was.

But when he spoke again, the hesitancy in his voice betrayed him, "…I know that I don't want you to feel that way anymore. And I should have told you before that," Francis took a deep breath and tried to organize his thoughts. "When Avian find their soulmates, we become bonded to them. As time goes on, it grows stronger. Some can even feel what the other does, and it's not unusual for one to die of heartbreak if the other leaves this world for whatever reason. I-I suppose the point I'm trying to make is that we would do anything for them. I would do anything for you."

Arthur's eyes widened, his mind racing.

"I know that this-" Francis trailed off for a moment, cleared his voice and continued. "It's not the same for humans. B-but even if you do not feel the same way-"

"You're a fool," Arthur interrupted, "I could hurt you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No, I'd never-" Arthur caught himself and looked at his feet.

This is too much responsibility, he thought. How could he expected to care for Francis' heart that way? They'd only just met. Arthur did care for him deeply, but this seemed much more serious somehow. Of course, he-

"Of course, I feel the same way," Arthur spat out, as if saying it fast would lessen his discomfort. "I don't know if this will work, but maybe we could," His heart was beating so fast, Arthur was worried Francis might see it through his shirt, "…try?"

Francis' eyes were loving, tender, so full of warmth. He regarded Arthur as if he were a beautiful painting, a masterpiece. Arthur didn't think it was right when Francis looked so much like an angel, the color creeping back into his cheeks and life animating every graceful movement. He felt tired, as if he hadn't been home in years. Francis was here now and he didn't have to be lonely anymore. His knees felt weak, so he fell to them and pulled Francis into a tight hug.

Don't look at me like that, Arthur wanted to say. I don't deserve this, it's unreal. But instead he said, "I'll wait."

Arthur could feel Francis smile against his shoulder, his fingers gently combing through Arthur's hair.

"And I love you, too," he added softly, leaning back enough to carefully guide his lips to Francis'.

Francis blinked, surprised, and then closed his eyes, letting himself melt into the kiss. For a moment the uncertainty of the future didn't matter. It was going to be okay.

Hello again! So… that's that! This seems to be as finished as it's going to get at this point. (I keep finding mistakes and typos in old chapters, but I can't really fix them right now, I'm so sorry. No time, no time.)

This was really fun! I've started to work on another one, but it will definitely go up much more slowly than this one. Thank you so so much for reading and **THANK YOU** to everybody who followed and favorited! Again, I really appreciate it! Best Wishes! oxox


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